


All I Can Take

by ivoryandhorn



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-08
Updated: 2010-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoryandhorn/pseuds/ivoryandhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furion is <em>his,</em> not Tyrande's, not ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Can Take

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _[Porn Battle IX](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/25077.html): Malfurion/Illidan; Tyrande, struggle, jealousy_
> 
> I kind of imagine their younger selves to be like these fanarts -- [Malfurion](http://pulyx.deviantart.com/art/Young-Malfurion-Stormrage-58136891), [Illidan](http://pulyx.deviantart.com/art/Young-Illidan-Stormrage-57488629) \-- though they're even younger than the fanart in this fic. YMMV!

Illidan hadn't _meant_ to go looking for Furion, exactly. It was just that he'd seen Tyrande's unmistakable teal head bobbing around in the temple and he wasn't about to pass up the chance to steal his brother back from her, even if only for a little while. One quick tracking spell later, and he was traipsing through the woods, letting the bobbing, dancing scrap of arcane energy guide him to where his twin was crouched at the edge of a clearing in the forest, a basket half-filled with peacebloom nestled in the grass beside him.

He stepped into the clearing and dismissed the bit of magic, making sure he looked relaxed—and why wouldn't he? Furion was going to be his again—before sauntering across the grass. He'd barely made it halfway across when his brother sat back on his heels and half-turned back towards him, balancing on one hand. Furion's face brightened when he saw it was Illidan, breaking into a huge smile. Illidan felt his chest lift a little, which made him angry; Furion was his _brother_, he shouldn't have to feel happy about him being happy to see him, they should just _be_. "Illidan! Where were you?"

Shrugging, he stopped next to his brother. Furion squinted up at him, falling on his rear and crossing his legs under him. "I went out with some friends," Illidan said casually. He looked around. "Where's Tyrande?"

"Oh, you know." Furion waved a hand, not looking particularly upset. Illidan felt a little surge of triumph at the sight. "Priestess stuff. She wouldn't tell me what."

"Probably an orgy," Illidan said, nodding sagely as he dropped down to the grass next to his brother. He noticed that Furion had left his sandals at home. Along with his shirt. It was a good look on him, Illidan wished he got to see it more, instead of Tyrande.

Furion burst out laughing. "I bet you'd like it if it was!"

"Oh, come on, can't you see it?" Illidan said, propping his head up with one arm. "The high priestess steps out, clad only in something see-through and white—some other nubile young priestesses reach up to take off her robe, clad only in their jewelry—"

"Illidan!" Furion said, sounding scandalized. "Stop imagining High Priestess Dejanah naked!" But he was laughing, so Illidan counted it as a victory. Could _Tyrande_ make Furion happy like this? No, she couldn't, of course not.

He arched an eyebrow at his brother. "Don't tell me you haven't?" he taunted. "Or—" a horrible thought "—what about your precious Tyrande?"

"Illidan!" his brother repeated, but Illidan noticed he was blushing almost magenta. So he _had_ thought about Tyrande naked, after all.

"I knew it!" Illidan crowed, but his insides seethed. Why did Tyrande get to have that part of Furion and Illidan didn't? It wasn't as if he was _her_ brother, he was Illidan's, from the womb, from before they had even been born. "Do you imagine her in orgies with the High Priestess Dejanah too?"

"Of course not!" Furion gave his shoulder a shove, blushing harder.

"They're probably at it _right now,"_ Illidan said smugly. "Imagine, while you're here sulking over a bunch of stupid _flowers—"_

He didn't get any further, because his brother had dived at him in outrage, throwing him backwards into grass. Illidan let him, pushing off with his legs and rolling over so he was on top. He didn't last on there long though, as Furion wriggled out of his grasp and leapt onto his back with a shout. Illidan rolled over out of the way just in the nick of time and pounced himself, but Furion already had arms out to push him away. He barely cared, all he could think was that this was _right,_ right in a way things hadn't been for so long—the two of them, just rolling around and wrestling in the grass like they had when they were younger, without any Tyrande or Cenarius to take Furion away from him. Who cared about a trees or girls anyway? _This_ was living, this right here, he and his brother panting and grappling for a hold on the other—

"Hah!" Furion shout breathlessly and Illidan cursed when he realized that he'd let himself be pinned. He wouldn't have gotten distracted if it hadn't been for Tyrande taking up so much of Furion's time and making Illidan so— "Hey, Illidan?"

"What?" he grunted, squirming in his brother's hold. When had Furion gotten so strong? And heavy?

"Nothing, it's just that you weren't—" his brother's voice cut of suddenly as he tried to shove him off, and Illidan craned his head over his shoulder.

"Furion?" he asked.

"Nothing—"

Illidan felt something hard pressing against him from behind. And then Furion shifted on top of him and he was suddenly, achingly hard as he realized what it was, when he realized—Furion wanted _him_—

"Let me up," he grunted.

"Illidan, I swear, I didn't—"

"I'm not angry, but we can't do anything like this," he said impatiently. Well, not yet, at any rate. If Tyrande hadn't managed to get Furion's sash off, then no one else had yet, and Illidan was determined to take all of Furion he could get before Tyrande took the rest.

He felt Furion lifting himself off and rolled over before reaching up to pull his brother back down against him. There was a bit of wriggling, and then they were aligned just right and Illidan muffled a groan in his brother's shoulder as their hips pressed against each other just right. Furion shivered under his hands and ground back against him, which made Illidan want to grin in triumph—Furion didn't want Tyrande, he wanted _Illidan_—but he covered it by kissing Furion instead. He made a surprised noise at that, but he got the hang of it fast, and when Illidan bit his lip a little, like he had with girls before, Furion squirmed against him and asked him to do it again. He filed it away as something he'd know about Furion before Tyrande, forever and always. It was so good, the two of them fitting together like they'd never be able to with anyone else, not ever, and the planes of Furion's shoulders under his hands were warm and solid and reassuring. Tyrande hadn't taken Furion away from him yet.

"Illidan—" Furion groaned, still rutting furiously against him. "Let me—"

"Yeah, do it," he grunted, arching up so Furion could tug his sash undone. He returned the favor, impatiently pushing the rough cloth out of the way. It was even better this way, without the cloth between them. Furion wasn't saying anything anymore, just holding on, fingers digging into Illidan's biceps as he moved, steady and focused. Illidan himself was pushing back up against his brother just as hard, matching him thrust to thrust, as he held on to Furion's bare back.

He didn't know who came first and it didn't matter; climax shuddered through him like a new spell, arcane energy filling him from head to toe and then suddenly released, all that heat and the power and—when he finally opened his eyes, it was to Furion's dead weight still draped all over him.

Raising a hand, Illidan shoved at Furion's shoulder and grunted, "Get off, you're heavy."

Furion groaned and rolled off him without a word, green hair blending in with the grass. He let his limbs flop all over the ground, like he didn't care that he was only half-dressed, and after a moment's contemplation Illidan did the same. This was _theirs,_ their moment, his and Furion's, and he wouldn't let the thought of anyone else ruin it for him.

"That was good," Furion said drowsily, eyes closed against the sun.

"We could do it again," Illidan suggested, and when Furion looked at him he reached over to claim his brother all over again.


End file.
